Wendelin
by Butterfly3
Summary: This is the story about Wendelin the Weird...


Wendelin

Wendelin

Disclaimer: I don't own Wendelin the weird (in my sory her name is duvall, because, I think she got the name „the weird" because of her character and not because her parents named her like that) All the other persons belong to me

This story is dedicated to my really looooooovely beta-readers silver and biology night(she is a bit weird, that explains the name!)

It was a cold cloudy day in June of 1393, and Wendelin Duvall sat in an armchair in the Hufflepuff common room. She was doing some needlework, and was obviously bored. Wendelin usually was the more practical one, but concerning needlework she lost this attribute. She sighed slightly and put the rose she was embroidering away. Instead she took a piece of parchment and a quill and began to write a letter:

Dear Sir, dear madam,

As you know, this is my last year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and because graduation is coming nearer and nearer, I have to think about my future. I decide to settle down in Sherwood forest in a small hut to explore the world of plants and herbs, as I always wanted to. Hereby I beg you to give me the permission to lead that sort of life.

Your loving daughter, 

Wendelin

That was it. Wendelin folded the parchment and tugged it to the leg of her eagle owl. It first zoomed a bit around the room, but then it flew off. 

The next days were like the days before execution to Wendelin, and she got so nervous that she didn't eat very much and embroidered instead. But some days later her friends were really relieved, because she got the reply and immediately stopped doing needlework all day. The answer her parents had sent wasn't very long, but it was an anwer: 

Dear daughter,

After a long time of considering the topic, your mother and I decided that it would be best for you to give you the permission. We will send you a carriage that will take you home after graduation. There we can make further decisions.

Your father,

Sir Anthony Duvall

Wendelin was happy. It was her dream of a life, living in a small hut in a forest, studying plants. But she was a bit worried, becausse a new institution invented by the muggles -it was called inquisition or somewhat like that-systematically tried to kill witches. Well, Wendelin wasn't really afraid, because someone had told her the inquisition had never killed a _real_ witch, but she had been worried wether her parents thought they were dangerous. And Gwendolyn, her best friend always railed at the _stupid_ muggles, because they killed others of theirkind, believing they were witches because they had red hair, brew some harmless, (non-magical) potions, or because they simply were at the wrong place at the wrong time. (for example they were in the forest dead night). Wendelin herself didn't think muggles were stupid, she just thought they were under-educated. Well, the thought of a muggle trying to kill a witch was rather tragic for the muggle than for the witch. (except that witch was 'Mrs. Forgetful'. She was the most forgetful person on earth, and regularily forgot her name. And because all her relatives were dead- she didn't know that most of the time too-nobody knew her name. So she was called 'Mrs. Forgetful' or the 'secret waepon' just because it could be really dangerous to someones nerves, if that someone talked to a person that always forgot what she had said two minutes ago. But usually murderers don't talk very much to their victims, they only do that in films to explain the sense of the senseless plot to the spectator)

A few days later, Wendelin was sitting in the carriage, that shouldtake her home. She had just graduated and was looking forward to spending her holiday at home, studying for her apparition test and do nothing but doing nothing. When the carriage stopped in front of Duvall House, she already saw her mother running towards her. 'Oh, my baby' Lady Duvall shrieked, tears running down her cheek, as she came to a stop to hug her daughter. Wendelin was a bit embarassed. She knew her mother very well, and so she was prepared for something like that, because Lady Duvall had always beena very sentimental person, but being called a baby at the age of nearly 18 wasn't the thing she always hoped it would happen.

Some metres away stood ger father, stiffly winking at her, wearing the Duvall family robes. The Duvalls had been very rich once, but they had lost nearly all their money under Frederic the Ugly, but they still had their house and some servants. Sir Anthony still clutched to the old family honor and always complained about the influence the Duvalls had lost. When Wendelin was younger, she used to ask her father what sort of influence he meant, but he would always say 'You'll understand when you're older' and go away. Wendelin still didn't understand it, but she had given up to ask.

Half an hour after her arrival at Duvall house, Wendelin got a letter by Gwendolyn, her friend. Wendelin wondered a bit why Gwen had writtren to her that early, because they had said they would write every month or so. Wendelin placed herself in an armchair next to the fireplace in the drawing room and unfolded the letter. To her surprise, it wasn't written in Gwens handwriting. When she finished reading she knew why. She let the letter slid on the ground and then fainted into the armchair. (Just because in that time, ladies just _loved_ fainting, according to older movies)

When her parents entered the room a minute later, her mother nearly got a heart attack by the sight of her daughter, who was lying there in the armchair, eyes closed, pale and looking sick, a letter lying by her feet. Sir Anthony instantly carried his daughter to a sofa, put her feet a bit up and then got some water to sprinkle on her face. Meanwhlie, his wife had found the letter and read it out loud: 

Dear Miss, 

According to my daughter Gwendolyn, you are a very dear friend to her, and so I thought that it would be in your interest totell you that my daughter vanished on her journey back home, and that she was last seen in a small muggle village around London.

Yours sincerely,

Lady Agatha de Champsville

The parchment was full of stains that looked like they were caused by water, so lady Duvall got the picture of a crying woman that was trying to write some words on a piece of parchment before her inner eye. 

Wendelin awoke a couple of minutes later, looking a bit healthier now. Lady Duvall instantly bent down beside her daughter, nearly bursting into tears, saying 'Oh, Baby, I'm so sorry for your friend. This is _so_ tragic, she wasn't even 18 years old, was she? Goddess, what would I do if it was my child? Run a dagger straight into my heart, yes! My, maybe that poor Lady has already got herself killed! Oh, a family tragedy! That's always so sad!' Wendelin slowly pushed her away and got to her feet. 'I'm going to find her!' she said, trying hardly to ignore the feeling in her knees, that could have been decribed with the word _jelly_, but I'm not really sure wether that existed in 1393 or not. 'Oh, Baby, you are certainly staying at home, you may get lost too, or vanish, Jesus, you might even be killed or get caught by the muggles! You never know what these bastards are capable of. They might even torture you!' Sir anthony was shocked. 'Wife, be quiet and leave the room. What do you think you are doing? The child may get nightmares! But now to you, daughter: you will certainly not leave Duvall House, and under these circumstances you will stay here for the rest of your life or at least until it's safer outside.' He said. 'and no contradiction' he added, when he saw the look on his daughters face. 'Yes Sir' the girl said, leaving the room, and going to her own rooms. _I am certainly NOT staying here, where life is ever so boring!_ She thought. So she started to look for some things that might be useful on a long journey, packed them into a small bag and quietly left the house, very un-ladylike through the window. Nobody noticed it, because the house only contained very little inhabitants (there were Sir and Lady duvall, the cook, the char woman and the boy who looked for the few horses, not to forget old wallace, who was now more a friend than a servant to the Duvalls) After checking that she really got no victims, she slid off into the velvet darkness of the night.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

And?????? How was it? If you liked it, then pleeze, pleeze, pleeze review. If I get at least 10 reviews, I will write further chapters (the next chapter would contain a visit at Champsville Manor, and the beginning of a long and dangerous journey)


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